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Spaceways, v. 3 issue 3, whole no. 19, March 1941
Page 4
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4 S P A C E W A Y S MOESTITIAE ENCOMIUM by EARL SINGLETON (Editor's Note: It is Feb. 12, 1941 as I type this dummy page, and in today's mail came notification of the tragic death three days ago of Earl Singleton. (Less than a week ago I heard from him last; I had asked him to write a regular column for this magazine and he agreed, promising to send the first installment of it within a few days. These two pages--4 and 5--had been held open for it that will never arrive. (Although I never met Earl, our correspondence was steady and the loss is greater to me than most fans will realize. I am positive that he would want me to publish several manuscripts of his I had accepted for Spaceways. A long poem which was originally intended for a future issue of this magazine is published below, and another poem will appear in the contest issue, as he wished. A third item, his short story "Goddess on His Arm", I feel it is better not to put into print, however, in view of its nature and the tragic circumstances. (As an act of respect, please do not rate this poem when sending your figures for the items in this issue of Spaceways. HWjr) ...... "I see the Angel of life."--Francis Thompson "I speak of a region distant and old," Said the demon, leering at me. "There the turbulent river of life has rolled To its mouth for age on age untold; There it flows into no peaceful seas, But plunges, a cataract wild and bold, O'er the edge of the world, all uncontrolled. "On a rugged rock that juts its way Through the teeth of the mad cascade, An Angel stands; and mighty and grat Are its wings; and all arrayed In a sombre veil that is wet with spray-- Or tears, perhaps--it watches the strife Deep in the raging river of life. "I watched the Angel the whole of one day, And never it stirred a pace; And once a waver of sunshine gay Bedecked the pinions might and gray, And I seemed to see its face Through the folded veil of filmy lace: A face of glorious beauty and grace! Then again the froward breath of fate Blew clouds across the sun; And I dared not try to penetrate That dusky veil I gazed upon: For I feared that shadowy face so dim-- A face grown grave and awful and grim! "But I saw from beneath its solemn veil The Angel's tear-drops flow; And I tasted the spray from those waters of wail Where the tears of the weeping Angel fell: The taste was salty, so it must owe Those tears to sorrow--and that I know."
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4 S P A C E W A Y S MOESTITIAE ENCOMIUM by EARL SINGLETON (Editor's Note: It is Feb. 12, 1941 as I type this dummy page, and in today's mail came notification of the tragic death three days ago of Earl Singleton. (Less than a week ago I heard from him last; I had asked him to write a regular column for this magazine and he agreed, promising to send the first installment of it within a few days. These two pages--4 and 5--had been held open for it that will never arrive. (Although I never met Earl, our correspondence was steady and the loss is greater to me than most fans will realize. I am positive that he would want me to publish several manuscripts of his I had accepted for Spaceways. A long poem which was originally intended for a future issue of this magazine is published below, and another poem will appear in the contest issue, as he wished. A third item, his short story "Goddess on His Arm", I feel it is better not to put into print, however, in view of its nature and the tragic circumstances. (As an act of respect, please do not rate this poem when sending your figures for the items in this issue of Spaceways. HWjr) ...... "I see the Angel of life."--Francis Thompson "I speak of a region distant and old," Said the demon, leering at me. "There the turbulent river of life has rolled To its mouth for age on age untold; There it flows into no peaceful seas, But plunges, a cataract wild and bold, O'er the edge of the world, all uncontrolled. "On a rugged rock that juts its way Through the teeth of the mad cascade, An Angel stands; and mighty and grat Are its wings; and all arrayed In a sombre veil that is wet with spray-- Or tears, perhaps--it watches the strife Deep in the raging river of life. "I watched the Angel the whole of one day, And never it stirred a pace; And once a waver of sunshine gay Bedecked the pinions might and gray, And I seemed to see its face Through the folded veil of filmy lace: A face of glorious beauty and grace! Then again the froward breath of fate Blew clouds across the sun; And I dared not try to penetrate That dusky veil I gazed upon: For I feared that shadowy face so dim-- A face grown grave and awful and grim! "But I saw from beneath its solemn veil The Angel's tear-drops flow; And I tasted the spray from those waters of wail Where the tears of the weeping Angel fell: The taste was salty, so it must owe Those tears to sorrow--and that I know."
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